Dark Firmament

by Ezra Manes

  DARK FIRMAMENT

  THIRD MOON RISING BOOK 2

  EZRA E MANES

  DARK FIRMAMENT

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright 2015 © by Ezra E. Manes, Jr.

  Cover image by Catherine A. Zocco

  Cover background image “Center of the Milky Way Galaxy IV” by NASA/JPL-Caltech/ESA/CXC/STScI

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission from the author.

  ISBN-13: 9781514238141

  ISBN-10: 1514238144

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015909491

  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

  North Charleston, South Carolina

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  PART 1

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  PART 2

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  PART 3

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My heartfelt thanks go to my wife, Jan, whose understanding, encouragement, and patience made writing this novel possible while we juggled numerous other important family events and relationships. And once again, I thank family and friends for their encouragement and constructive criticism.

  I read a wide variety of current scientific news sources, including Scientific American, Science News, and Astronomy Magazine, which gives rise to all kinds of imaginative, fictional extensions to current advanced ideas and technologies. The fictional extensions presented herein are solely the author’s responsibility.

  I am also motivated to let my imagination fly free by the numerous science fiction novels I have read over the years. I seldom start a new story without thinking about a quote attributed to the great author and engineer, Sir Arthur C. Clarke, who said, “Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” I have endeavored to sprinkle some “magic” throughout this work of fiction.

  DARK FIRMAMENT

  Imagination, creativity, and necessity

  drive sentient species

  to achieve the impossible.

  PROLOGUE

  Ecina was slender and fast, and escaped Joqi’s rushes several times, much to his aggravation. He scrambled around large boulders scattered here and there, chasing his friend in a game of tag. They were playing behind an old iron reinforced wood retaining wall next to some salt pits, which were on the large farm his parents managed.

  He was nine years old and Ecina was a year younger; he was stronger, she was faster. He finally cornered her for the tag, and then turned and ran. She chased him in turn through the jumbled boulders.

  She was persistent, and to show her up and escape, Joqi started climbing the four meter high retaining wall. It was slow going and she caught him by an ankle before he was a meter off the ground. She held on and pulled him down. They fell together and lay on the ground laughing and pushing at each other. They were oblivious to the constant sound of large machines working steadily on the other side of the retaining wall.

  Ecina jumped up and ran. Still laughing, he chased her around a large bolder. A loud clang brought them to a halt; an iron strap on the retaining wall had broken as a machine pushed salt high against the wall. The wall started toppling down on them.

  Joqi turned to run to safety but Ecina froze in place. He turned back and grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the wall. They were not going to make it! He pushed her hard away from the wall as he tripped on some loose gravel.

  She stumbled but managed to stay on her feet. She ran screaming as he fell next to a large boulder. The wall came crashing down and slammed onto the boulders, breaking apart in several places. The machine operator was slow to notice the wall giving away and continued pushing salt against and up over the broken wall.

  Joqi was protected somewhat beside the large boulder, which had a piece of the wall blocking most of the salt from covering him. He was trapped in a small air pocket next to the boulder, buried alive by a thick layer of coarse salt. The total darkness and rank smell of unprocessed salt in the small enclosure assaulted his senses. Powdery salt dust filled the air, making it hard to breathe. His knees were gashed from falling on gravel, and the salt burned like fire in the cuts.

  His whimpers turned to sobs, and then to screams as his young mind grappled with being trapped in the dark, confined space. Fear grew in leaps and bounds like a demon rising to consume him. He totally lost his sense of being as terror gripped him with burning tentacles. He curled into a ball, whimpering and sobbing as his body convulsed and emptied his bladder.

  A calming thought pushed hard at his tightening ball of chaotic emotions. Stronger and stronger the persistent thought pushed, bringing a glimmer of reason into his jumbled young mind.

  Joqi, I am here. Focus on me!

  Gran…Granpeda?

  Yes, it is me. Focus on me!

  Granpeda, help me!

  Two hours later the rubble was removed sufficiently for his father to pull him to safety. Joqi was found sitting calmly beside a large boulder with legs crossed in a meditative position.

  This was the first time he exchanged thoughts directly with his grandpapa. He learned years later that his grandpapa had a neural implant that enabled him to communicate telepathically. Joqi did not; his capability came with the rather unique way his brain structure evolved during development in his mother’s womb and through early childhood.

  PART 1

  CHAPTER 1

  The plea came like a faint morning breeze and Joqi almost missed it.

  He paused, pulling back from deep immersion in the design diagram hovering above his workstation.

  There, it came again, soft as a shadow cast upon the ground.

  Come, Joqi.

  Joqi turned off the 3-D visualization of the irrigation system he was designing for the cooperative farm his parents managed. He closed his eyes to shut out other visual distractions, and focused his thoughts, reaching out to enfold the wispy, elusive thread.

  Granpeda, are you alright?

  Come soon, my Joqi.

  With a flick of his forefinger he stored the irrigation system design changes, and then turned off the workstation. He had communicated with his grandpapa Sepeda at this great distance only once before, and it was under dire circumstances.

  “Dad,” he called out to get the attention of his father, who was busy at a nearby workstation. “Grandpapa’s time is near. We must hurry back to Zilerip.”

  His father nodded his understanding. He didn’t question his son; he had known for many years about the unique telepathic link shared by Joaquin and his grandfather, Prophet Carlos Sepeda.

  His father shut off his workstation and opened an intercom link to the farm collective’s launch facility. He directed the launch manager to ready their jump-shuttle for departure to the capital city as soon as possible.

  Joqi hurried to the community bunkroom to collect his personal belongings. He was glad to find the large room unoccupied. An overpowering sense of dread, of deep loss, surged to the forefront of his thoughts as he stuffed pers
onal items into a travel bag. He stopped and sat on his assigned bed, tears welling up.

  Joqi, you must never grieve for me. I will always be near.

  Oh, Granpeda…

  Get a grip on your emotions and hurry home! I sense a looming threat to our civilization. You must act quickly.

  Me? Why me? There was no response. He projected thoughts outward and sensed nothing.

  He rose and quickly finished collecting his personal things, and then headed for the launch pad. In spite of his depressed state of mind, Joaquin smiled at the memory of his grandfather giving him the nickname Joqi. He was short and wiry as an adolescent, and was always climbing onto things. Back then he loved to ride domesticated farm animals, and the saszu in particular, which led to his grandpapa Sepeda nicknaming him Joqi. A saszu was similar to a horse, and his grandpapa said Joqi reminded him of the jockeys he had seen riding race horses in old Earth video clips. When spoken in English, Joqi’s name rhymed with jockey. His grandpapa still called him Joqi, as close family members did, even though he was now tall and muscular, and a respected mechanobiologist and physicist.

  The jump-shuttle looked like a mix between an aircraft and a rocket sitting on the launch pad. The shuttle launched and landed vertically on its rocket engines. Joqi rode an elevator to the top of the portable launch structure housing the shuttle, and quickly climbed into the passenger compartment.

  His father was already strapped into one of the shuttle’s four seats and was talking to his wife via a video satellite link. She was in Zilerip visiting family. Joqi’s mother was visibly upset.

  “But Rici, your father has shown no change in his condition over the past several months,” she said. “I visited him this morning and could see no change.”

  Horacio Sepeda, nicknamed Rici, turned his hands palm upward. “Kali, we have what we have, sweetheart. We must trust our son’s judgment regarding his grandpapa.”

  “Hi Mom,” Joqi said as he slid into the seat beside his father.

  “Hi dear,” she said. “Tell me what is going on.”

  “Grandpapa summoned us and indicated it is critically important that we hurry to his side.” He paused. “I sensed that he does not have much time left.”

  She frowned and remained quiet for a few moments. Joqi saw his father entering launch data via the control panel in the arm of his seat.

  “I will let everyone know,” Joqi’s mother finally said, with a catch in her voice. “Love you guys. Hurry back.”

  The display deactivated before they could respond.

  Joqi strapped himself securely in his seat, and his father commanded the autopilot to launch for Zilerip, the capital city of the planet Zilia.

  The shuttle’s engines growled to life, like angry, wild beasts ready to jump into action. And, like its name implied, the shuttle literally jumped off the launch pad and roared into the dark blue sky under autopilot control.

  Joqi grimaced as the 4g acceleration pressed him deep into the padded seat. In a jump-shuttle, you launched and landed while sitting with your back parallel to the ground. This was only his second ride in this type shuttle. He didn’t enjoy it any better now than he had the first time.

  The high-g acceleration continued until the shuttle was in suborbital flight, where the engines quieted to a low hum. The large collective farm his father managed was about a fourth of the way around Zilia from Zilerip. It would take them about two hours and a half to reach the capital city in the jump-shuttle.

  He looked at his father, who had turned to look out a small porthole illuminated by the midday sun. He sensed that his father was already grieving.

  Joqi reached over and lightly gripped his father’s shoulder. He in turn reached up and patted Joqi’s hand. They shared a strong bond, a loving bond, which they often expressed openly. They worked in very diverse professions; one a farmer, the other a scientist, both honored professions on Zilia.

  Science was considered an art on Zilia, and artists pursuing advanced studies were held in high esteem. Joqi enjoyed his artistic profession, but was happiest when visiting and working on the collective farm his parents managed. The wide-open landscape around the huge farm appealed to him.

  His father turned to face him, grief showing in tear-filled eyes. “We have known the past few months that Father faced this transition soon. I hoped he would make it to the next primary two-moon eclipse.”

  That was too much to hope for, Joqi thought, but couldn’t bring himself to say it. The primary eclipse would occur in another five and a half months.

  “When talking to Father recently,” his father added, “I sensed we were on the cusp of another major revelation.”

  Joqi remained quiet, although his father was clearly expecting a response. Should he share what grandpapa had conveyed about a threat to their civilization? No, no need to upset his father any more than he already was. After all, he didn’t really know anything about the threat his grandpapa alluded to.

  “Dad, Grandpapa expressed concern about what we face going forward. He didn’t provide details. He urged me to hurry home.”

  His father frowned at Joqi switching to English instead of speaking Zilanese. But he shrugged, nodded, and turned back to face the porthole. Joqi preferred English; it was more efficient than the melodic Zilan language. English was the language he and his grandpapa used in conversing when they were alone or with Joqi’s younger sister, Alandi.

  I should have said “urged us to hurry home”, Joqi thought. Regardless, he knew his father, the youngest of Prophet Carlos Sepeda’s nineteen children, wouldn’t take offense. He had never said nor did anything that even remotely showed jealousy or chagrin regarding Joqi’s close relationship with his grandpapa Sepeda. On the contrary, he always supported and encouraged that special relationship.

  Joqi could see his father’s face reflected in the porthole, which now had a backdrop of dark sky above the horizon. It could easily be mistaken for his own reflection, showing an angular jaw, slightly heightened cheekbones, thick arching eyebrows, and a strong, long nose above a thin mustache. His eyes were large, with long eyelashes, and the reflection showed his eyes and hair as black, although they were both dark brown. Slight cheek dimples showed on occasions when his father smiled. If he and his father were the same age, they could be mistaken for twins; that is, if Joqi were to grow a mustache. But at twenty-six years old, he still preferred a clean shaven face.

  His father’s lips moving silently and Joqi knew he was praying. His father and mother were openly devout in practicing their religious beliefs, as were most Zilans, even government officials. The common religion among those in society was tightly coupled with government doctrine. Joqi believed in a higher power in the universe, but not to the basic driving level that his parents did. He remained respectfully silent as his father continued to pray.

  He smiled for the second time since the summons, again at a childhood memory. At a very early age, he started calling his Grandpapa Sepeda by the nickname Granpeda. Joqi remembered his mother trying her best to get him to call the revered prophet by grandpapa, but he intervened, saying it was special to him that Joqi called him that unique nickname. No one else did. As Joqi grew older, he greeted his grandfather as everyone else in the family did when only family was around, as Grandpapa Sepeda. But when Joqi and his grandpapa communicated privately, he still used the more personal nickname Granpeda.

  They had been in flight for almost two hours when Joqi’s mother contacted them again by video link from Zilerip. Her face looked strained and her eyes were red, probably from crying.

  “Joqi is right,” she said. “Your father’s vital signs are weakening fast.”

  “We will land soon,” Rici said. “Sweetheart, I believe my father will survive until we get there. Otherwise, he would have summoned Joqi earlier.”

  Joqi believed that also and was glad his dad thought the same thing.

  “I want to believe that,” Kali said. “Regardless, I have arranged for flitter transportation directl
y from the jump-shuttle pad to your father’s home.”

  She hesitated, grasping for words, then her motherly concerns burst forth. “Joqi, why…, why is Grandpapa focusing on you? Why did he summon you directly? Are you in danger? Why will he not answer my questions?”

  “Mother, Grandpapa indicated we all face a looming threat going forward from today.”

  His father looked at him sharply. Uh oh, what he said was a little more serious than what he told his father earlier.

  “The only way I know to get answers,” continued Joqi, “is to get to Grandpapa as soon as possible. I have tried communicating with him, but to no avail.”

  It was clear his words had not relieved his mother’s concerns. Nor could he think of anything else he could say to ease her state of mind.

  For the remainder of the flight, Joqi shared the quiet solitude with his father while remembering the good times experienced with his extended family and his grandpapa in particular.

  • • •

  Joqi’s mother greeted them at the front entryway to Prophet Sepeda’s home.

  “Oh, Rici,” she said, as she rushed into her husband’s arms. They hugged close, and then she turned her attention to Joqi.

  “We must hurry,” she said, giving Joqi a quick hug. “Grandpapa keeps asking for you both.”

  As they turned to go, Ecina Cenenteh rushed into the entryway and into Joqi’s arms.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “Please hurry. Grandpapa is slipping fast”

  He had known Ecina as a good friend for many years, but had only started dating her a year earlier. She was a descendent of Caron Cenenteh, a respected Zilan physician that had worked closely with Prophet Sepeda’s team upon their arrival on Zilia. Joqi’s strong friendship with Ecina blossomed into love very quickly. He had proposed marriage during the last two-moon eclipse, two months earlier. Their marriage was scheduled to occur in five and a half months at the peak of the next Holy Seven-Year Two-Moon Eclipse.